Throughout October, MAAGO Circle explored The Ritual of Keeping—what it means to preserve the people, stories, traditions, and practices that shape who we are. We began by reflecting on the things we hold dear and the attention required to keep them meaningful. We considered how traditions are passed down through generations, how cultural practices such as Ghanaian customary marriage evolve under the influence of religion and modern life, and what might be lost when we change traditions without understanding their origins.
At the heart of these conversations was the relationship between inheritance and intention: how we honor where we come from while making room for who we are becoming. Ultimately, October invited us to consider not only what we choose to keep, but why we keep it, how we keep it alive, and what will remain for those who come after us.
A Guide, a Guardrail, Not a Cage
I keep traditions because, to me, they are a guide, a guardrail, and not a cage.
Tradition is not static, and I don’t believe it should be. It carries the accumulated wisdom of people who lived, made choices, learned from their experiences, and established practices that would outlive them.
There is a responsibility in choosing what to keep, and wisdom is required to make that choice. Tradition provides a foundation from which we can make informed decisions, drawing from a history of choices already made. We may continue a practice, adapt it, or leave it behind, but there is a difference between choosing with knowledge and choosing without understanding what came before.
Not every inherited practice is right simply because it has survived. But preserving traditions allows us to understand their purpose, examine their relevance, and decide how they belong in our lives today.
Without that knowledge, we risk losing not only the practice but also the wisdom that could inform its future.
The Familiarity of Belonging
One of the things I treasure most about tradition is its ability to make strangers feel familiar.
Living in the diaspora, I have met fellow Ghanaians whose names alone offered clues about their cultural identity, ethnic heritage, or the communities from which they came. Before exchanging our personal stories, there is already a thread of recognition between us.
Sometimes, that familiarity is found in language. A simple chale, an expression so closely associated with Ghanaian everyday conversation, can create an immediate sense of connection.
Other times, it is found in how we communicate.
Respect is deeply embedded in many Ghanaian customs. It is reflected in how we greet our elders, address one another, and even in the words we use in ordinary conversations. Ask a Ghanaian how they are, and you may hear, "I am well, please."
That please may seem unnecessary to someone unfamiliar with our ways of speaking, but to those who grew up with it, it is perfectly natural.
These are not elaborate ceremonies reserved for special occasions. They are the seemingly insignificant things we carry into everyday life, often without realizing how much of our upbringing lives within them.
Sometimes, it takes being far from home to recognize just how much they mean.
Traditions make us identifiable. They connect us through a shared understanding of belonging, even when geography or generations separate us.
When Tradition and Modernity Hold Hands
We often speak about tradition and modernity as though one must give way for the other to exist, as though embracing the present requires loosening our connection to the past.
But I have never believed their relationship must be one of opposition.
There is a modernity in our traditions, and sometimes, when I pay attention, I see them holding hands, moving alongside one another, neither necessarily leading the other.
A tradition may find a new expression without losing its meaning. What matters is understanding enough of its origins to recognize what should remain.
I think about this often through MAAGO.
Ghanaian shea butter has been part of everyday care for generations, long before the language of modern self-care, elaborate skincare routines, or beautifully packaged products.
The knowledge was there. The practice was there. The intention to care for ourselves and one another was already there.
Through MAAGO, I am not seeking to reinvent that tradition or present it as something newly discovered. I am bringing an inherited practice into conversation with contemporary life, allowing it to remain recognizable while finding a place in the world we inhabit today.
In that sense, MAAGO is as much about continuity as it is about self-care.
What We Carry Forward
As October comes to an end, I find myself thinking less about how much we preserve and more about the understanding we pass along.
What good is keeping a tradition if we no longer know why it matters? What becomes of an inherited practice when its meaning is forgotten, even though the practice itself remains?
Perhaps keeping requires more of us than repetition.
It asks us to remain curious about our histories, to question with the intention of understanding, and to share what we know.
Traditions are not kept alive by memory alone. They endure through the language we speak, the stories we tell, the practices we continue, and the meanings we take the time to explain to another generation.
I do not believe we must preserve everything exactly as it was handed to us. Nor do I believe that change automatically represents progress.
There is value in knowing what we have inherited before deciding what becomes of it.
And perhaps that is what The Ritual of Keeping has come to mean to me.
Not holding on for the sake of holding on, but recognizing that the past offers us a foundation from which to understand the present and shape what comes next.
A guide. A guardrail. Never a cage.
For what we keep is not merely a reflection of where we have been, but part of what makes it possible to know who we are, recognize one another, and choose where we go from here.
As we close October's reflections, I would love to hear from you: What ritual or tradition are you keeping, and why does it matter to you? Share your thoughts in the comments. Perhaps your story will remind someone else of something worth carrying forward.
With gratitude,
Alice